


I gave you up.

by carpethefanfics



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, F/M, Graphic Violence, Grief, Guilt, Guilt-ridden, Sorrow, Torture, graphic descriptions of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpethefanfics/pseuds/carpethefanfics
Summary: She tells herself that for most of them around her, for Thomas, they barely know her. Whatever happened in the past isn’t even a reality for them. Sure maybe their bodies feel something, spin up something inside, that their minds have been unable to dredge up. But mostly, she’s not even a memory. So she feels crazy. She’s having a visceral reaction to something no one in the room can possibly feel, can possibly recall, and she hates herself for it. But she can’t stop herself from the way she’s overwhelmed by it either.“I made a promise to you, that I would keep you- that I would keep us safe.”
Relationships: Thomas (Maze Runner)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	I gave you up.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe one day I'll add another chapter to this but for now, my quarantine brain has moved on

**“He doesn’t know does he?”**

Teresa’s voice felt like a slap across her face.

* * *

She remembered the moment she woke up. It was like being set on fire. An unreal pain jolting her system awake... or alive. It wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was a searing, blistering, almost blinding shot. She wanted to keel over, huddle into herself as if it could stop the ache but her neck, wrists and ankles were bound back by tight straps. She tried to open her eyes but the sheer exhaustion was overwhelming. She tried to scream but her throat was dry; moving her lips felt like cracking open old wounds. There was nothing but darkness and sterility around her and the feeling that she was caked in dirt or grime or maybe blood. At first she thought she was inside the elevator that she had watched so many of her friends ascend on into the maze. But she knew better; they were never bound, they were never in this much pain. She was in a place so much worse.

_“Are you going to tell us?”_

The voice flooded the room. It almost sounded robotic like it was coming through a microphone or a PA system. Before she could answer anothh jolt of electricity rolled through her body violently shaking her, straining her against the straps that held her in place. It caused her teeth to grind together; her jaw was screeching out in pain as it tensed; her back arching painfully off the metal bed that had been her home for who knew how long. The source of the volt, an area of her leg, was probably smouldering. All she could feel was hot metal tearing open her skin, all she could smell was burning.

_“Do I need to ask you again?”_

* * *

Gally had barely even begun interrogating Teresa, barely just torn the bag off her head when her eyes began scanning the room. Right before Teresa’s eyes focused on Thomas, they had focused on her. The arch of her brow was quick, if she hadn't already been looking at Teresa's form she might have missed it.

“Here’s how this is going to go.”

Gally had never been one to bother with pleasantries, and she appreciated that. The last thing she needed right now was Teresa flipping the script on them, getting a chance to plead her case to Thomas’ empathetic nature. She leaned herself against the wall hoping this would all be over soon.

“We’re going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to tell us exactly what we need to know. We’ll start off simple. Where’s Minho?”

She closed her eyes to the sight before her. She wasn’t sure how much she could stand the intense eye-contact of Thomas and Teresa. She knew from the memories that were slowly flooding back to her ever since they had escaped that compound in the middle of the Scorch that the two of them... _the three of them_.... had been close. She knew there was probably something more between the two of them but she wasn’t entirely sure. The way they looked at each other left her skin crawling and she could never place if it was form jealousy or fear or what. So instead, she chose to just listen to the exchange.

“You guys don’t seriously think-”

Teresa’s voice sounded strong as she responded. It was the voice of a woman with a nice bed and a comfortable life behind walls designed to keep the infected out, to keep _them_ out. It was not the voice of the girl she knew or thought she knew. It made her sick.

Lifting a chair, Gally placed it down backwards in front of Teresa, straddling it to take a seat with his arms resting along the back. He glared at her, “Don’t look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He’s not going to help you.”

She couldn’t help the brief exhale at Gally’s words. It could have almost been a laugh, almost a laugh, anyway.

“Now we know you have Minho in the building. Where?”

“He’s with the others in holding, sublevel three.” Her words were followed by a deep sigh, her head bowing as she looked down to her lap. For a minute it seemed like that was guilt on Teresa’s face.

“How many others?” Newt piped up.

Teresa took a second, thinking over the count, “Twenty-eight.”

All eyes turned to Brenda who shrugged, “I can make that work.”

“No!”

From the back corner her eyebrows raised. She wanted to look up to see how tightly locked Thomas’ jaw was, how strained his shoulder’s were at the outburst, but she just kept listening. It was better if she kept her eyes focused on the floor; for her sanity, for her well-being, for both.

“No, you guys don’t understand. The whole level is restricted! You can’t get in without a thumbprint ID…” Teresa’s voice was strained; was that worry?

“That’s why you’re going to come with us.”

The sound of softness in Thomas’ voice as he attempted to sound harsh was a shot to the gut. As much as she knew there was something in the recedes of her mind that left her with the distinct impression that something had happened once upon a time with Thomas and Teresa. Another part of her knew how she had felt about him all that time ago too. In all their time together over the few weeks of escaping the maze, finding the rebellion, it made her question if had been unrequited? There had been moments. Soft touches, familiar glances, and she could have sworn they had something. But now- hearing this, seeing them in spite of what Teresa had done - maybe she finally had her answer.

“Well I don’t know…”

From the corner she lifted her eyes to get herself away from the spiralling of her mind to look at Gally, catching his eye as he smirked back at her from the chair he sat on.

“We don’t necessarily need her, right? Not all of her.” She couldn’t help the small twitch at the corner of her lip as he spoke.

Backing up, Gally pushed the chair out of the way and reached for the scalpel laid out on the table. It was only a scare tactic, everyone knew it. And honestly, she deserved to be scared, after everything she had done.

“We just need her finger, really.”

“Gally, _back off_.”

The exasperated sigh that left her was not meant to leave her so loudly but clearly her body was doing what her mind wished; making sure Thomas and Teresa aware of how she felt about all this. Teresa turned her head with wide eyes while Thomas seemed to ignore the noise as he ended Gally’s fun before he even had a chance to really get started.

“What are you squeamish? I guarantee you she’s done a lot worse to Minho.”

As Thomas worked up to a reply to that, she tilted her head to more carefully look over Teresa. They locked eyes and for a second, a brief second, she thought Teresa looked afraid. What was happening? Guilt and worry and now fear? Something inside her was still apprehensive despite what her eyes were seeing. Maybe it was that Teresa was recognizing something in her eyes that she didn’t yet know. Teresa did have all her memories back after all whereas she only had pieces; the rest of them only had pieces. But before she could open her mouth to ask, Teresa turned away to the sound of Gally’s voice.

“I forgot, you’re not squeamish. Just trying to protect **your girl** is all.”

Thomas turned to look at Gally, his eyes wide as Gally harshly grinned. Between friends, in another world or time, it could have been a moment to laugh and tease; a moment to rile Thomas up. But right now, in the midst of this war, it felt like a threat. So the room stilled while Thomas stood up to snatch the blade from Gally.

“ _ **Enough**_.”

“It won’t make a difference. Do whatever you want to me, you still won’t get through the front door! The sensors will pick you up-”

“We know, we’re tagged. Property of WCKD.”

He stood beside Teresa's chair, crouching down closely to her as she looked down at him. Their eyes connected staring at one another intently and despite being so far back, she felt like she might need to leave the room. The overwhelming turn of her stomach was too much. A familiar dreadful feeling.

* * *

_“If you had just opened that pretty little mouth we wouldn’t have had to do this you know?”_

She felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness. There was a cloudiness and a pounding in her head. She wondered if she had been hit. There was a spot that felt both hot and cold; it felt wet even. But as she tried to lift her eyes to the light that was coming form one area of the room, to the sound there even; trying to give every last bit of energy to just stare because of what was **there**. Her memory was splayed out before her for all of them to see. An image of Thomas gripping her shoulders, it looked like he was begging her but she couldn’t be sure. All she could hear were four soft words over and over, “Please, for me, please.”

She wanted to focus on the image; brand the look of worry on his face into her memory so that when they wiped her clean like she assumed they would, she would have some recollection of him. Of them. The persistence in his eyes, the delicate ridge of his cheek, the curve of his mouth. The way he laughed when she quirked an eyebrow, the soft look he gave her across the room, the faint feel of his heartbeat as her finger tips ran over his chest. But she knew they would do their worst. Especially to her. She would be lucky to remember her own name at the end of this let alone his.

_“Its for your own good. You used to understand what that meant.”_

She remembers hoping for absolute darkness in all that time. She hoped after each session, after each moment they left her, after each round of whatever she was meant to be enduring, she would be swallowed by a sweet abyss. At one point, she would have even taken the burning feeling of drowning before they sent kids into the maze. She wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here; at least that would mean this torture had come to an end. No more blood loss, no more tears shed, no more splitting headaches from digging around in the deep recesses of her mind. Even the maze would have been worlds better than this. But they weren’t done with her yet. No, even though they had what they needed to punish him. She knew her punishment wasn’t nearly complete.

_“You won’t betray us again.”_

* * *

Thomas spoke softly, “You’re going to help us with that, too,” as he brought the scalpel up for Teresa to take.

It took about half an hour to get through the lot of them after several threats on Gally’s end and an almost reassuring speech from Thomas that if Teresa wouldn’t hurt them, they wouldn't hurt her. She watched from the back corner as one after another Teresa sliced open their necks and pulled out the embedded chips. Thomas waited til almost the very end but it was her that went last. She was afraid of the moment Teresa had that blade near her throat; not afraid of dying, more afraid of what her body’s visceral reactions would be to having her body at the mercy of WCKD again.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

She sat down roughly in the metal chair as Thomas lifted out of it. She wrapped her hand through her mess of dark curls and pulled it up to expose her neck. Teresa’s hands were warm against her skin and it took everything inside her to not run at the impending brush of the scalpel.

“This will sting a bit.”

She scoffed, an unrestrained anger seeping through her pores, “I think I can handle it.”

Teresa’s lips formed a hard line from behind her as she let her eyes focus harshly on the floor below her, trying her best not to be too tense.

“I didn’t forget.”

She wanted to turn back as Teresa’s voice sputtered out at her. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to but if she was right and it was what she thought, this was not the moment to discuss it.

"Don't?

“Didn't forget what?” Thomas’ voice rang in her ears suddenly remembering they weren’t alone in this space. Of course he heard. The same moment her hand gripped the metal of the chair, Teresa gripped her neck.

She breathed out the words “it’s nothing” almost as fast as Teresa breathed out “punishment” and it was like all the blood in her body was now pounding in her ears.

As soon as she feels the chip rise from her neck she raised out of the chair and stepped back. A survival tactic that her body instinctually sought to make her feel safe; back to a wall, danger in your eye line. There’s a stunned look on Teresa’s face almost mirroring Thomas’.

“Punishment?”

“What do you mean?”

“Whose?”

Everyone around them is looking intently at her now; probably based on her reaction and she curses herself slightly for it. Their questions all cross over one another with a series furrowed eyebrows and worried creases but she decides to look intently at Teresa.

“He doesn’t know does he?”

Five words that slap her across the face. She can feel the survival instincts intensify in her body trying to protect and shield all the trauma that has melted into her bones from everyone’s peering eyes. No one needs to know what’s been done. The past is the past, there's a mission to focus on and she has chosen for so long to keep it that way.

Her eyes want to go wide at the gall Teresa has to pull these strings of emotions out of her but she pulls back, strains to keep her face neutral. She knows she could drop to her knees at the overwhelming sense of information that Teresa has, that Teresa now realizes she has, and _god she wants to_. But instead, her stomach drops and her gaze remains harsh.

“That’s no ones fucking business.”

She spits the words out hoping the wrath behind her words masks her shaking. She moves to leave the room but Thomas' hand wraps around her arm pulling her back, pulling her to look at him. As she raises her narrowed gaze to him, she notices he has that glint in his eye where he’s not ready to stop digging or pushing or pulling at the seams. She knows he’s barely gotten anything back; just fragments of another person in his head, fragments of Teresa. She understands how deeply unsettling it is to not know and how much his body is screaming that he needs to gather every piece. She has had the feeling herself.

“What is Teresa talking about?”

Thomas’ voice is soft but stern and she isn’t sure who to turn to next. She doesn’t need the stares of all these people, all these friends, pitying her. This was a war zone, everyone had their stories and hers never needed to be on display.

“They thought it was her. At first anyway.”

“Shut the _hell_ up Teresa.”

She jerks her arm back but Thomas' grip tightens and Teresa stands too, takes a step back letting the scalpel drop and hit the table. The metal rings in her ears. Another familiar sound that scratches at the surface of her memory.

“Thought what was her?”

“ **Stop**.”

She’s trying to control her ragged breathing; trying to control the memories unfurling in her mind the more Teresa opens her mouth about things that should stay dead; stay in the _past_. That was the thing about pain though, it demanded to be felt and it didn’t care if you were trying to bury it.

“Who gave up the locations.”

Teresa is staring at her, at the tightness of her fists and the strain of her eyes, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Her voice is soft, like the way a worried friend whispers in your ear.

Thomas’ brows furrow at the unknown conversation having between the two girls; seeking to repair the holes in his head while beating down the walls that she had built up to keep her sanity, “But Mary said I did that.”

“You did.”

She feels her hands rise to rub her temple; there’s a throbbing pain there, like pricks resting under her skin. It’s like the memories are rapid fire shooting around her skull.

_Blood, so much blood. Metal doors. Broken nails, broken glass. And Thomas … Thomas screaming her name._

“Please Teresa.”

Her voice is pitiful. She isn’t sure why she’s fighting it so hard anymore; why she was so afraid to tell them. Technically Thomas already knew; it was a memory the three of them shared. But something was fighting her, an instinct that he didn’t need to know this. Or maybe it was a memory?

* * *

_“What’s going on Thomas?”_

She was standing in a room of servers waiting for him. They were blinking bright blues and oranges and greens; it could have almost been like she was standing in a room surrounded by twinkling lights or like she was floating in the night sky with the stars.

She was slightly startled by the sound of footsteps but when his face came into view her smile broke softly. That was until she realized his eyebrows were furrowed, a stressful glint in his eyes.

_“I did it. I sent it.”_

All the air in her lungs vanishes. They had been planning this for weeks; collecting the data slowly, clearing their tracks, coding their time carefully. She didn’t think it would be over so soon, didn’t think the fear would set into her muscles this fast.

_“Okay, okay, and they don’t know?”_

_“I don’t think so. I’m not sure. I just wanted to tell you. I needed to tell you because they’ll find out soon and then they’ll come for me.”_

His hands are resting against her shoulders and she thinks, for a second, that it would be nice to have a moment like this with Thomas again when he isn’t telling her the possible end of their world is coming.

_“We were careful. I erased all the tracking codes. I did everything. You’re going to be okay Thomas.”_

His eyes flutter closed and his hands tighten as he steps further into her space, _“When they come, I need you- I need you to let them take me. I need you to not do anything if they do.”_

Alarm runs through her body as she lets her palms rest against the sides of his face, “ _Thomas what are-”_

His breathing is shallow, his eyes are piercing and she knows he’s trying so hard to get every word out. She lets her thumbs brush against his cheekbones and stares intently, “ _You can’t reveal yourself, you can’t. I won’t be able to handle it if- if- if something happens to you”_

She wants to reassure him, _“Thomas-”_

**_“Please, for me, please.”_ **

She lets out a brief exhale as she steps closer, _“Okay, okay, I promise …”._

* * *

“I broke it.”

She tells herself that for most of the people standing in the room around her, for Thomas and Teresa, they don't know her. They didn't need to know her past. Whatever happened then wasn’t even a reality for them. Sure maybe for Thomas and Teresa. Maybe they felt it in bodies because memories rest inside you; in your muscles and bones and blood. If you feel hard enough it'll spin up something inside you. A visceral reaction. But Thomas' mind has been unable to dredge this memory up. So, she’s not even a memory. And she had told herself she didn't need to be.

So she’s having an explosive reaction to something no one in the room can possibly feel, can possibly recall, other than Teresa and she hates herself for it. But she can’t stop herself from the way she’s overwhelmed by it either.

“I made a promise to you, that I would keep you- that I would keep us safe.”

Her eyes are on the floor as she tries to let the tension melt through her body and into the cement floor beneath her. She feels the anger that was boiling up towards Teresa settle. She hadn't been ready to reveal something so painful. Something that would pull harmful memories out of Thomas that he didn't need. She was very much happy to let the past die; let it melt away into something less raw. Maybe it was because she felt guilty. She had failed him; failed all three of them.

She can’t even bring herself to look at Thomas right now; the room is stale with the bated breaths they’re all holding.

“So when you say punishments…”

Teresa’s voice rings clear as day, “They figured out she knew who the traitor was. They needed to know. And-and ... she wouldn't say.”

She can feel the tears running down her cheeks, hot and wet and more uncomfortable than she’s been since she escaped them, “I gave you up.”

The words that have been sitting on top of her lungs since the memory of her last day strapped to that metal table came into her head seep out of her so quietly she fears she might have to say them again.

She feels her knees give out from beneath her and she hits the ground hard, “I’m so sorry- I’m sorry- I’m sorry Thomas- I didn’t- I couldn’t.”

She wonders if she had ever hyperventilated in her past life because this feeling like smoke or water is filling her lungs is unbearable. But suddenly a set of arms are around her and there’s a strong chest against her back. She’s sure there’s talking around her but the blood is back to pounding in her ears while she grips the side of her head. As she lifts her head to the feel of soft fingers under her chin she sees the blurred face of Teresa, “You never said his name. You didn’t give him up.”

"I failed."

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on Tumblr - carpetheotherfandoms


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